Act 3: Healer

Act 3: Healer

Alee

They say happiness exudes from me.

Not bubbly effervescence, or even simple

glee of naivete. I am to an extent self-

contained, emit a special fantasy sheen

that colors whatever I see, makes my

world a theatrical play. Not a side effect

of my illness or recovery, this inner magic

has always been me. My closest seem to

revel in it, have no issue with appearing

on my stage, each in their way co-creators.

Thus what might be seen as unexceptional

gets enhanced as song and dance under

my spell, let loose naturally to express

indulgence in exultance. For my morning

shift at Gus's Diner, I've been replaced by 

Jay's sister, Nadia, who had worked relief 

along with Jay, Greta and others, that now

include me. We get called when the shift

cook is overwhelmed with orders, or unable

to be there for whatever reason. Jay used to

work front while I cooked, though arriving

not as early. I prepared for breakfast before

opening to customers without her presence.

She would take orders and payment, clean,

accept deliveries, keep all in order, along

with Gus, or when he was otherwise engaged.

Since he slept in a room above, he could be

wakened for emergencies, if that is where

he was. Sun high in the warm, Spring sky,

today, we are released into other activities 

since no shift looms. At the Mart we find

Jamee, also free, having switched back to his

early shift at the Factory, since his time no

longer is divided to tend to my necessities.

Many have asked me what it was like while

I seemed so distant, unable to participate in

much communication, hours alone, quiet,

wan, almost a ghost. For me, then, real life

was but a distraction from the stories I saw

in my mind, loud enough that my body's

pain, suffering, got drowned out to a major

extent. As days became months, years, I

learned to manage as if I looked down from

a separate plane. Jamee kept me sane, connected,

amazed by his grace, never appearing fazed,

or other than my joyfully loving brother,

eternal friend. Sophia regaled me with histories,

dramatically rendered, as practiced in her

classroom, to grab and hold attention. She

showed me plots and characters from our

past to add, expand my inner theater's repertoire.

It was not so bad, except for all the time,

opportunities, I keenly believed lost to me

forever. I have always been naturally active,

maybe overly expressive, not the retiring type.

I felt, when I let myself, locked down, held in

a devil device against my will. I now carry no

regret, but know, deeply, strongly, that I never

want to feel like that again. Cas, our family

mystic, says I've been through an alchemical

trial, to expect to be changed profoundly, though

he doesn't know how at this stage. I am glad

to be happiness exuding Alee, aloft with love,

relief, buoyancy, lifted from a well of grief for

former abilities, now I've reached the other, 

better side. I know, at least, what not to take

for granted. Every little interaction, exchange

of energy, beams of Sunshine, smell of rain,

squishy mud, each exhilaration, are blessings

to be fully inhaled, expressed, appreciated with

profound respect. Yet, may I not forget in all

this emotional soliloquy to live lightly, entice

with gaiety, let loose laughter, camaraderie, let

it all shine through me, the Alee they all love,

well and happy, their living miracle.

 

Jay

No, Alee and I aren't attached, as some might

imply.  We have our separate romances, amply

discussed, criticized within intimate observation.

We have our unique activities, follow individual

passions, obligations. Yes, we share a special

relationship. Mutual confidantes, partners in

mischief, soul mates of a sort. Of course, Jamee

and Paul also hold her close, Jamee sometimes

closer than I. Yet, we are always there for each

other as needed.  Playmates, work mates,

co-creators, ever up for fun, commiseration,

inspirational or silly conversations, best friends

forever.  Today, beauteous mid-Spring, between

our Kitchen shift and Theater choreography session,

Alee brings us to her current bedroom, the big

one they moved her to due to the attached bath,

when they knew she would need attentive, direct

care. We came here so she can shower, change to

lighter wear, while I do a quick edit to our

recorded script for theatric development, before

also changing to a more flowing costume for

ease in dance. Not an ignorable text, but a loud

annoying ring from my phone insisted I respond.

My next older sister, Greta, blubbered that Mama

was experiencing something seriously wrong.

"We don't know how to help," she confided.

We are all quite aware of Mama's vendetta against

the Clinic's Meds. Only one floor above us, I told

Alee what Greta told me, and we quickly ran to

see just what was up. Mama, pale, twitching

uncontrollably, unaware that we were there.

Calling Bonnie, at least to provide what information 

she as a medical professional had was my initial 

impulse. Alee, meanwhile, leapt to Mama's bed, 

humming softly a soothing tune. We witness, 

Greta, Nadia, and I, Alee wrap her arms around 

Mama's back and shoulders, touch foreheads, 

her eyes closed. Tears seemed to squeeze onto her 

lashes. I heard her murmur, so quietly I could not 

discern her words.

We watch silently, unable to do more, in a sense

enchanted. Bonnie knocks, enters, finds us in 

Mama's room. Neither of the two in their seeming

trance move, or even glance in our direction.

Bonnie is already upon that astonishing scene.

She touches Alee, who turns, takes her hand,

eyes now widely smiling. Mama rises. She is

well, almost glowing with health. Her manner

subdued, confused, but only quite mildly

disturbed, more like suddenly finding you are

not overwhelmed in a realm of ghosts, spiteful

demons. Right here, right now, clear-minded,

protected by friends and kin, her voice, as if

from a place of awakening, calls us near, calls

us dear, tinged with obvious grateful love.

This is not the Mama I remember, even from

yesterday, from all my days as rebellious

daughter. This is not the woman who raised me

to believe myself nothing but a burden, best

ignored when not the immediate focus of

wrathful paranoia. Yet she is strangely familiar,

maybe someone my child mind had glimpsed

once in a while, a woman that could have been

a rendition, who might have raised me differently.

Who would I be then? Alee is a'glee, merry in the

attention her healing has elicited. She adoringly

reminds me that our bond is dominate, scoops

me up in her happy dance. Witness to a 

circumstance I would never have imagined,

glad that this, I guess miracle, happened.

Still I wonder how, why, what will become of

it? Not my nature to fall to optimism. My life

familiarly a chaotic mystery, I am not given to

taking good fortune at face value. Clearly,

though, we are all experiencing an amazing

day. May as well celebrate. Bonnie assures us,

all is well in hand. She calls on Clinic staff to

facilitate Mama's admission for examination,

now those paranoid fantasies have fully faded 

as Mama's intrinsic motivation. Alee and I

cannot wait to tell Jamee and Paul all about

our excellent, outrageous adventure. By

now they should be home, downstairs.

Jamee

My beloved sister, it seems has brought us

all in to populate one of her fantasies.

We could not have foreseen such a salubrious

eventuality. Our happy clan, despite past

trauma, do what we each can to give back,

to honor the blessings of our community.

Has Alee's new ability been bestowed to

increase her, and by extension our, power

to serve? Cas might better understand, with

his spiritual inclinations. He tends to see what

we do subsumed within a bigger plan. Not

for me to know. I just hope Alee's recently

revived energy is not too taxed by her act

of healing another's, Jay's mother's, disease.

Paul has been pensive since Alee and Jay

regaled us with this amazing occurrence.

Giddy, emotionally high, they spoke over

each other, bringing Paul and I into their

small coterie of those in the know. No doubt,

Bonnie, once she has taken care of her Med

responsibilities, will tell us of the aftermath,

what she thinks it all means. I am thinking

this a good evening for an extended family

dinner meeting, maybe a celebration to

honor Alee's brave action, Barbara's health.

At least we can talk, give thought to this

unexpected development, because, as a

closeknit family, what affects one affects

all.  I text around my invitation, only

saying that there is a matter of importance

to discuss, and, dinner's on us. Then Paul

and I decide how we will expand our meal

that all attending may be well fed with

appetizing cuisine. Alee and Jay, too

filled with elation to stand still, hug and

twirl, swing each other, laughing,

singing, making faces, generally being

them, but much more energized than

I've ever seen. My concern that Alee

might be depleted after her act of

healing is apparently without

corroboration. I allow myself unbridled

happiness. People are arriving to

discover what I asked them here to say.

Alee and Jay, still high from their

experience, fly out at once to share

their news. Sophia, Marta, Bobby, 

Camille, and Cas (the kids left to play

next door while their parents find out 

what has happened, before they get 

called over for dinner), each in their own

way react. Dazed, bemused, curious,

congratulatory, every one hyped, whether

silent or bubbling over with emotion.

I have yet to find a calm moment to

reasonably speak. Into the thick of

this bubble, Bonnie, our trusted source

of educated medical authority, arrives.

Bonnie

My family certainly wants answers.

Am I not their professional Med?

Even when their prejudices or

lived experience lead them to believe

differently from me in some instances,

I, and those I affect, count on my

intelligence, education, years on the

job. I still evidence those qualities that

got me noticed, now long ago, by

my teachers. I like to think I pass

forward what I have learned, use

my skills to help where I can,

people distressed by disease, injury.

My goal achieved, embarked upon

as a teen who had seen, shared in,

the suffering my dear older sister

endured until she could no more,

the ripple effects on my parents,

brothers, me. We had been mostly

happy before Tara fell ill. The

stable ground we expected transformed

into sand. Several months after

Tara's passing, our youngest, Louise

was born, but to last less than a

year. It had been a difficult gestation

and birth, complicated by our

mother's dispiriting grief. As it

eventuated, my parents no longer

felt the necessary connection to

go on together. Dad moved out to

a different Tower. Mom did what

she had to, to be a mother to the

children still dependent. My lesson from

this family tragedy was that I needed

to learn to be a healer, discover cures to 

replace the misery of those afflicted

with sickness, injury.  I told myself

over and over that this is my mission.

When Alee seemed lost to us, I could

find no cause after medical tests. Yes,

I felt frustrated by the limits of what

I knew to do, based on my training and

subsequent evolving knowledge. Just

another as yet mysterious disease yet

to be identified, was my assumption.

Today, the way she was able to move

to Barbara's assistance, heal with touch,

intention, transference of grace, clearly

I am out of my league. There is so very

much in this Universe, even in this little

world, that I, we, have yet to begin to 

understand. Or do the City Uppers have it 

all in hand, keep the greater knowledge

theirs to appear invincible? Maybe a bit

from each conjecture, or another I've yet

to guess. What matters here is rather that

within the mystery we have been presented,

our Alee seems to have awakened from

whatever kept her down with greater 

ability than what had been at her command.

What can I say to my gathered family to

allow them calm acceptance of this 

unexpectable development. It is not my

place to speak of Alee's achievement. I

have no special medical explanation.

We are examining Barbara at the Clinic.

Perhaps the information we seek will 

be revealed. I tell that to those here, assure

I will share what I learn. Meanwhile, we

can enjoy our meal and conversation.

We have every reason to believe this

healing a blessing, especially for Jay,

Nadia, Greta, even their older sisters,

their father, of course Barbara herself.

Alee has always seemed a magical being,

overflowing with the need to express her

active imagination, inborn grace. We

sorely missed that strong, delightful

presence these past four years of her

essential absence, unnatural silence.

Yes, we spoke to her quiet form, assumed

she heard. On occasion she would muster

up a few words that leant credence to

such assumption. Overjoyed that we 

again get to act as happy, enthralled

audience to her exuberance, this further

unanticipated turn of events may be but

a glimpse of what is yet to unfold, or,

it could be only its own instance, fueled by

Alee's devotion to Jay. We await fullness of 

impact, result, as we would whatever befalls 

us, affects us as people connected through 

mutual love. 

Camille

Yes, Bonnie will make it all make sense.

I have the deepest respect for my sister of

circumstance. Her manner of calm intelligence,

exactly what we need when agitated by

surprise emergencies. Bonnie and Cas feel

like my kin, siblings from other mothers.

We have been together, created our home,

are raising our kids, for like half of our

lives, if not from our beginnings. I never

want to speak or think about mine. All

that time when child I was becoming the

Camille I would be, was far from happy.

Why go there? Eventually I broke free,

made myself a merrier model. Found an

older friend happy to take me in for

companionship, and various chores.

I learned to support myself, selling my

art at the Mart, fashioned from Rec Center

materials and supplies I figured out how

to devise, or getting paid for temporary 

tasks here and there. I learned to distill dyes,

paints from common Garden and Forest

plants, in craft studio space, using tools

there provided by the Upper grant to

sustain the School. I knew Barbara to

an extent back then, through her oldest

daughters who she sometimes supervised

in selling her knitted products. Gwen and

Rebecca, from that acquaintance became my 

friends. They eventually moved in with Laura 

and me, once Barbara's crazy became more 

than they were willing to continue to bear. All

to say, I am amazed by her recovery. I 

never wished her anything but well. Still

it galls me that sweet, adorable Alee,

yes I know, so thankfully returned, gets

to be heroically cast as if she had manifested

some well developed skill, not merely a

recipient of a marvelous gift that allowed 

this apparent miracle. Yes, of course, she is 

the baby of the sibs, generally has been a 

merry presence, that lifts spirits, naturally 

kind, generous. Yet, aside from her parents' 

tragic demise, and, of course, her years of decline, 

she has always been blessed by her loving family,

her creative abilities, the abundant sunshine

she has seemed to spread, that endears her

to friends she easily inspires. It's not

jealousy. Bobby, my work, my kids, (including

Diana and Julia), my found family, are

everything to me. No one had ever cared,

loved me as Bobby does. He has courted,

welcomed me, generously, tenderly, been

my previously undreamt of support, partner,

confidante, playmate, my person with whom

I resonate, navigate the world. Back when I

seemed defined as rebelliousness, based on

well-founded fears of rejection, I had no idea

such love, security, would ever be a possibility.

I don't begrudge Alee her friends and family,

the magic aura she exudes. I do detect a

supercilious superiority from her, too.

She has not earned through hard, directed

work, bit by bit built skill, her artistry. Her

creative abilities, imaginative flair have

always just been there for her to share,

exult in. I get that for so long we thought her

lost to us. I'm sure she believed herself

beyond repair. Of course I am glad to have

her back in all her glory. It's just that our

stories, so widely divergent, converge

here with Alee cast as the conquering hero,

worthy of worship for what has occurred

to her, without her plan or effort, or in the

case of her unwanted vacation, consent.

Despite all my hard-earned accomplishments,

beyond Bobby's ever endearing appreciation,

applause, I mostly go unnoticed. Yes, they

enjoy, respond with loving delight when I

fashion their hair, gift them with artistically

enhanced wearables. They accept me, as I present

to them with welcome, even respect. A kid

who never got enough positive attention, I guess 

I continue to feel a deficit.

Paul

My mind moves as it does, as if surveying

a puzzle. When pieces click I see a picture,

sometimes a plan. Nothing grand, but

how to fit needs with reciprocal fulfillment,

facilitate beneficial meetings, bridge between

what has been, and what could be better.

My job, more my calling, fits this temperament,

gives me greater ability to spread what

service I may provide. Alee, so dear to me,

beloved sister and friend, always amazes.

She and Jay, filled with excited glee, tell

us their tale of heroic rescue. Jay exclaims,

her mother is somehow cured: "I've

never seen her so clear, so normal, before!"

Poor almost motherless Jay, at least going

forward they may be able to forge a loving

relationship. Jay has successfully become

her own brand of joy, over the years we've

known her, as she has grown into one of

our clan. Would a demon-free Barbara

have given her a more propitious start?

Apparently, we all carry scars, obstacles,

bad memories, once we've been around

long enough, or even as legacy, pain,

hopefully balanced by pleasure, loving

company. I have for years been visiting,

in my daily Mayoral wanderings, Dorothy,

Dory for short, a fondly recalled teacher of

each of us old enough here. She has been

suffering ever more intense debilitation from

a cruel progressive disease, apparently

genetic, because previously seen in decedent

members of her exiled family. No longer

able to put forth labor, nor at this stage take

care of her own needs, her devastated life

partner, Tony, does what he can for both

of them. He continues his job as Clinic

Auxiliary, brings in Credits to afford Dory's

comforts, provides her necessary care with

simple adoring devotion, tries to shield her

from his emotional despair. They have no

progeny or other close relations. Their world

has been their service to our community.  

They deserve more, a reward of grace to

restore their ability, their joy in giving,

to continue that formerly happy destiny.

Have I been given a way to test Alee's

mysterious power, while possibly

allowing Dory a cure? I will discuss

this tonight with Jamee, is my go to

inclination. He can advise what I may have

missed, or suggest further information.

Yet, here we are gathered to take in this

emergent situation. I can throw open my

plan to the whole clan for conversation,

before any decision is reached. Alee seems

interested. she and Jay, still busy giggling,

appear to respond with whole hearted 

affirmation, a desire to try, without hesitation. 

We all remember Dory's kind and cheerful 

preparation, our educational foundation. 

She offered not only subject classes of facts, 

practice to perfect basic skills. We were also 

imbued with a  values permeation, learned  

social responsibility, that we grow our

individual abilities to the benefit of our

greater community. Sophia, a fellow teacher

at the School, tells us Dory has generally

been well regarded among the staff. "She

was always ready to help, no matter how.

Genial, collegial, not one to merely do her

job, then leave for leisure activities, Dory

clearly genuinely enjoyed all the aspects of 

her vocation. She has been missed. Yet, we

never think to visit her. That will be fixed."

Sophia has spoken, apparently a further

affirmative. We all agree, Dory and Tony

need to be informed of our plan, asked if

they wish to proceed. I am happy to act,

once again, as go-between. Alee wants to

know if she ought come with me, re-introduce

herself to Dory, since they have not known each

other for some time. I am of the opinion that

that would be fine. Even if no solution 

eventuates, our visit could perhaps act as

a distraction from what loneliness adds

to Dory's affliction.

Sophia

I remember Dory welcoming me, that first day

of my position, teaching at the School. Yes,

everyone was welcoming. I was not ignored,

nor hazed, but treated as I expected to be by

as yet unnamed colleagues. Dory's welcome

was special. I have witnessed it since with

subsequent arrivals. Fond, almost a

conspiratorial twinkle in her eyes, she

makes it clear we all belong here in our

common enterprise, providing the best

education, that each younger generation

thrive, usefully communicate, based on

lessons shared, skills inculcated. An

undeniably kind soul, and fun, any one of

us would unhesitatingly attest. Even after

these years since she has been here, well

remembered. I should certainly make sure

to visit now that I am reminded she still

lives near. Tomorrow Alee and Paul will

suggest their experiment. I don't want to

interfere. What if this healing blessing is

real, if Dory were returned to her previous

glory, reunited with her inborn teacher's

rightful self-expression? Wonders do exist,

despite our human limitations in understanding.

Tomorrow, while Paul and Alee visit Dory,

Marta diligently as always engages with her

calling, after my morning class at the School,

I intend to go to the Compound, interface with

my sister, Daphne. Though she is over two years 

older, we have always been closer than that

span would imply. We share passions for

learning history. As little girls we founded our

secret binary society, where grown-ups, older 

brother, Jeff, most especially, were kept out. 

She is now a researcher/professor at the City 

Arts and College Complex, called the Center, 

her childhood dream. Unlike me, she's had no 

interest in leaving City friends, conveniences. 

Cradle to grave surveillance, no big deal, since 

her research is always approved. Never rebellious,

happy to stick to the unwritten rules, a price

easily paid to avoid making waves, enticing

unwanted attention. Private in her manner

seems enough to elicit the space she desires,

while she concentrates on her work, personal

relationships. I, of a more flamboyant nature,

am happier here, where I can be more me,

without fear of censure. Thus, I do attempt to

be circumspect when in the Compound,

technologically cut-off from Barros' entrance,

where full AI surveillance reigns. Of course,

when I communicate with Daphne, or

others I knew in the City, including Jeff,

Mom and Dad, I do my best to be circumspect,

stay within guidelines of appropriate

conversation. I know there is constant

monitoring, a major feature of City life.

All these years of being free to express

spontaneously, means I must be careful

not to forget where I am when beneath

City skies. Even the popular streamed

entertainment, 24/7 Gossip, may without

compunction, often does, relay what may

have, for the participants, been considered 

private information, complete with

pictorial confirmation. Yes, there are 

compensations like arts, culture, appropriate

education, advanced medical advantages,

(though the gold standard life extension

procedures and practices are only allowed

to Uppers, jealous of their pre-eminence),

endless opportunities to enjoy lifestyles that

suit. Despite these enticements, I prefer to

take root in this more primitive, less glitzy,

milieu. I feel at home with my Barro family,

love the research I get to do, this society of

simple pleasures, work as service within a

reasonable community, even if tragedies,

preventable with City technology, occur.  

Apparently, so do wonders unaccounted for

in City records or legends, or what I've

discovered here so far.

Cas

I know I can be seen as other worldly, not

withdrawn, drawing from within. My intuition

guides me. My practice of permanent meditation

keeps my mind at ease, exudes that aura of

calm, deliberate, peacefulness my somewhat

manic family can depend upon. Events of

late have increased their need. Yes, a complete,

unalloyed blessing when Alee became her full

self again, but even with all that joy, an

unsettling shock. Now that this healing ability

has been revealed, however it develops, the lot

of us feel to some degree rocked, unsteady about

the solidity of our expectations. I admit to some

unspecified trepidation. Not one to question

Divine intervention, rather I cultivate authentic

acceptance of whatever occurs. Yet, I still have 

natural fears and hopes. I am a man, not some 

devotional saint. Today I take in this expansion 

of understanding, ponder its meaning,

possible repercussions. Seated at our family

table, replete in memories of meals past, I smile

gently, humbly, reach out to silently embrace

each in turn, Jamee, Alee, Jay, the others having

stepped out to attend to their own affairs. I

hold Alee dearly, find the depths of her eyes 

with mine. As always, my baby sister fills me

with a happy reverie just to see her here, fully

present. Again a force of nature, perhaps an 

unwitting volunteer, messenger from some 

author of destiny, for not just her or us here, 

but everyone, everywhere. My envisioning, 

not based on reason, logic, tells me, just let 

whatever unfolds spin its own tale. Tomorrow, 

Alee and Paul will fill in the next installment of 

what is to become of this story. Maybe what 

happened with Barbara was a fluke, a one-time 

cosmic joke that gods may laugh about our 

confusion. From deep in my heart, I speak to 

Alee. I offer blessing and calm acceptance of 

what may transpire. I explain her only 

responsibility is to act as inspired, as before.

She is not in charge of whether anyone is cured.

She is a vessel, a dispenser of medicine, not the

source. She smiles, arises, pirouettes and bows,

grabs up we three in broad embrace. For this

instant, we become a dance of grace and flowing

love.  Blissful, this is my happy place, among

those I most closely carry, including family just

now outside my view. These people are my

true home. Never a chore to care for, the pinnacle

of my desire is to provide as they need. What 

better life could there be for me? Paul and Sophia 

return to join our after dinner dance. Marta is still 

soaking out her day's frustrations in a relaxing bath. 

Bonnie, Bobby, Camille, and the kids have gone next 

door, into their evening activities. I imbibe the peace 

as we each allow our comforting distractions to release 

us from nonproductive agitation, dissipate heightened

excitement, that we might find restful sleep, in the 

fullness of time, that we may be re-energized

to take on what tomorrow may bring. I kiss my

little sister, give bright smiles all around, as I move

to retire to the room Bonnie and I share. She will

trim my hair as prelude to commingling. See, we

are a happy, normal family, going about our happy,

normal reaction to mystery. I do remember Dory

as the kind of warmly giving person so very not

deserving what has befallen her. I sincerely hope

my sister can overturn her misfortunate fate, let

her retake her rightful place, regain what we all

have lost as a community created by all who serve.

Act 2: And So It Goes

Act 2:  And So It Goes

Alee

Not one to follow a plan, I flow through my

present circumstances.  After all that regrettable

fallow time, I  am ready to try out the various 

bits of my former life, to discover what fits the

new, the now.  Jay, my trusty sidekick of yore,

again, together as we belong, merry tricksters at

play, or comfort when those occasions of serious

nature occur.  I hope my neighbors carry only

fond memories of our high jinks, are happy to see

us about in their midst as before.  Gus agrees to

me joining his back-up cook list, though he has

a full complement.  Jay's sister, Nadia got promoted

to my shift when I disappeared.  Her sister Greta and

she have continued to back up as well, though Jay

has given up her service shift to a younger worker

I've not yet met.  The Community Center, generally

shortened to Com, home to the School and Theater,

along with its myriad rooms for other uses, comes next.

The Theater, as always, calls me, my second home for

so long, where I can dance and sing, create marvelous

fantasies for the flock to perform, where I haven't a care,

just a sort of ecstasy from breathing that, to me, hallowed

air.

Then on to volunteer at the Kitchen, two-hour shifts for

a pittance paid in Barro Bucks from the tax taken in rent

and payment for Community goods by those who can

afford it, along with a free meal of what our work provides 

for those who can't. After meal preparation, Jay and I

grab a cart to carry our share of food to deliver, to their 

Tower apts, to those who can't get about due to disabilities,

who have no one to do for them. While visiting to give

them sustenance, we love to hear their stories.  We offer

the news of the day, help them feel connected.  If we see

they need medical assistance, I call Bonnie at the Clinic.

She sends a Med to discern how to proceed.  Then, we

continue on to feed each next on our list. Once our day's

work has finished we play, make up scenarios as we wander

our terrain, often accompanied by friends who enjoy the

game.  Finally it's time to head home for dinner, family

chatter, catching up with Jamee, Paul, maybe Sophia and

Marta, whoever of our clan happens to be there. Jay has

long since been part of us here, where she has always felt

more at home than upstairs with her mother and sisters,

now mostly on their own, except for Nadia and Greta, the

two next older to her, who have stayed to continue to

take care of Barbara, their erratic Mom.  Jay officially

lives there, too, but rarely appears where she never felt

she belonged. She is perennially welcome here, and with

other friends, as well, sleeps wherever she is when that state

overwhelms conscious activity. She likes to encourage

serendipity by not following plans, acting as each moment

demands.  Dinner and concomitant conversations done,

we return to my happy place, my Theater home. Tonight no

performance looms, just uninhibited fun.  A lovely day, early

in mid-Spring, now softly closes, in readiness to merge

into the next. My future unforetold, what I do know, what

feels like peace, though friends, family, community have

moved on through their destinies, filled any hole my absence

left, I am still and always a part of them, they of me. How

we play out day by day may be a mystery, right now I

feel fine.

Jamee

I am not only about my close ties with Alee and Paul.

I guess I tend to be seen as a follower, though certainly

there are those who know me as Jamee, a man of my

own predilections, motivations, merry company. My

days have several components, with others and alone.

A regular shift at the Factory helps keep me physically

on track, where I get to see, throw about facts and

philosophies, with co-workers who expect me as part

of our routine. At last freed from the need to spend hours

attending to Alee's survival, I can return to my generally

more peripatetic lifestyle.  Yes, I often accompany Paul

on his rounds to keep tabs on his people, their urgencies,

aspirations, to determine how his knowledge of resources

might assist. I enjoy the engagement in conversations, 

gentle ribaldry.  My raging curiosity happily discovers

all those disparate bits that bind into glorious stories,

who each of us ultimately is.  Pleased for these opportunities

to wander my world, look in here and there,  find where

I may be of aid, join in games, converse on subjects both

small and wide, why would I desire any other life, now

that Alee is back, fully part of our world, my grief released.

There's always music to enjoy, accompany.  Usually I carry

my flute on my journeys, riff on some tune of my own, or

with other players I come upon, impromptu concerts to fill

our common air, often promoting impromptu dance. We

Barros can be a happy lot, given little encouragement.

In inclement weather we have the Bar to relax in, play on

the stage, dance with abandon on the hard wood floor.

Of course, wine and weed for purchase enhance our 

camaraderie, good cheer. Not that we need intoxication

beyond the shared exhilaration, together here, outside

from our current cares, at one with simple fun.   Some

nights the Theater flock plays for audience. Paul and I

like to attend, enjoy that experience with the others

present from the community, watch Alee in her element.

Song, dance, theatric stories that express full emotionality,

gifts from our thespian neighbors, friends, family, we 

recompense, when flush enough with tips left in a box on 

the bar for that purpose, along with a separate box to tip 

the staff. After Theater night, we might go for a bite at Gus's 

Diner, where Jay and Alee are often cooks early in the day. 

Now they have transformed into customers of others' 

culinary fare. No need for the fancy atmosphere of the 

Restaurant, available for special occasions that want more 

rarefied celebration. Tonight's Diner menu is exactly what 

we desire after the show.  Eventually, Paul and I retire to 

home to gift each other every attention. Alee and her flock 

of theater friends have gone off to their own adventures. 

I reflect, a simple soliloquy, a tale of charm and grace, as 

my lifelong lover says I spread wherever I alight. Finally 

the night carries me to dreaming while another day awaits.

 Paul

It always renews me to look into my dearest love's deep

green eyes. I feel as if I gaze into the sea, though I've

never seen one.  I  suppose it to be much like our River,

but greatly more immense, with no discernable end,

as with Jamee and me, our profound bond. I admit

way back when we first each became aware of the

other, when I was but eight, Jamee merely five, that

part of his appeal was his big, beautiful family, so

different from mine.  His people seemed a pantheon

of love and fun.  Even their public spats were more

like theater than actual disturbances in their

obvious mutual regard.  My parents' home offered

no refuge or warm welcome, no squabbling siblings

to count upon.  Mine are sour folks, not salty sweet.

I tend to think they got together to, like some folie

a' deux, enjoy the treat of mocking everyone not them.

Better to think on today's pleasures, not dwell on

what has long been misfortune past.  My official

role as Barro Mayor, paid in kind by those with goods

or services I find useful to meet my modest needs,

chief among them, caring for my aging mom and dad.

I do look in on them, though more rarely now that they

are independent of that necessity, hear their demands,

mollify, implore them to act more kindly toward neighbors

who come by to help out, be less of an unpleasant

chore.   My work, far from onerous, allows me to be

generous with my abilities and time.  I get to wander

my world to find what needs doing, who needs

guiding, where I  can interfere to improve, or instigate

initiatives to enhance our communal lives, both

overall and one by one. On many of those tours,

Jamee joins me, adds his open-handed generosity,

amiable curiosity. People seem to well respond

to our genuine interest.  In instances of dire emergency,

they feel assured that we will readily, effectively

provide in every way we can be of aid.  I get to extend

the empathetic man I naturally am to my community.

How could I feel other than blessedly fulfilled?

Now that dear Alee is again her rambunctious self,

my blessings more brightly than ever bloom.

Early dawns, before our outward looking day

begins, in our, to me, sacred room, I gaze lovingly

into Jamee's deep green sea. Every morning,  I am

thus renewed to engage with all the dramas and

joy of my privileged employment, my chosen

intimates, a world that is my home.

Sophia

They say I've gone native. Though, of course,

Barros are not native to this land, not originally.

I've gone free, to be, to become, me, as I choose.

Happy to have the grace of the gods to exchange

a City existence for this vibrant, even often exciting,

more natural life.  Free of constant surveillance,

the need to appear as if in a restrictive public

square at all times, I am here the Sophia I could

previously only see in fond fantasies, safe from

the probing AI eye. I have always been fascinated 

by stories of the past, tracing relevance, aligning 

the bits and pieces that make a history. Granted

a teaching position, research permissions, a decent

City credit salary for this less expensive economy,

in relation to what native help is paid, I do well,

and perhaps some good. All I am intent on learning,

eventually teaching to my students, the Barro

story, my enduring passion to discover, I am here

able to teach myself. This inquiry demands I pursue,

by inspiring trust through empathy, deep, probing

conversations with those old enough to remember

even older relatives, mentors, whose tales they

pass forward.  I get to wander this once to me

foreign terrain, explore architecture, City bequeathed

and Barro erected, the more temporary structures

made for everyday commerce, the personal projects

that last as social institutions derived from private

business dreams.  I imbibe, explore derivations of

customs, examine those intricate strands, as if weaving

a vast mural behind my eyes. I know I am a 

romantic. Far from interfering with my astute

reasoning that captures and combines every scrap

of evidence I find, in narratives, explorations, suppositions

analyzed for nuggets of fact to be mined, my tendency

toward imaginative fancies adds to my overall

ability to understand and continue to piece together

what was. What an exhilarating place I have found!

By now I have gathered luscious fruits of these

opportunities that I can share.  More importantly,

I have become a blessed member of my adopted

Barro family. They keep me in touch, in merry tune,

with the intimate facets of my personality. Marta

and I, so different in our styles, outward facing traits,

Somehow, we are each the completion the other

needs to bloom into all of our potential beauty.

Who we have become together grows day by day,

into a better forever. Love and duty, both for me

seem like enthusiastic play. Marta and I, though

co-existing at the City Uni-Teacher's Division,

never met then. Barro and City students were kept

separate, to deny too great a chance of untoward

communication. We met here, in our capacities as

faculty at the School, shortly after we began our

tenure, when still quite young, close to 21, less than

a month it turns out between our births. From the

start, we had endless thoughts to share, were

amazed by how immediate and intense our mutual

care, understanding became manifestly obvious.

Her family pulled me into their heart. My parents,

siblings had given me sound foundation for who I

was then yet to be.  Not effusive, but loving, basically

kind, if at times arrogant, intelligent, responsible,

fine models, mentors for an academic career. I

sometimes  am in touch, from the Compound

communication platform, with one or another of

them, share anecdotes from both sides, tell them

how I'm faring, get to hear about what is important

to them. City Compound cut off from the Barro

in which it stands to the far South, on the River,

surrounded by a high tech opaque fence so none

can see in, screened against entrance by any but

City approved immigrants that we may temporarily

enjoy the benefits of City engineering, including

the ability to communicate with people still in

the City.  Of course the price is AI surveillance

within its confines, as in any City designated place.

Thus I only tell my City family only what I safely

may. Not the way I would choose to be restricted,

out here where I have the chance to be authentic.

Well over a century back, the Barro, not yet named, 

was but a strip of unmanned land, cleared of its 

natural forest by massive fires while Earth was 

erupting against us, as within the what would 

become City parameters, across our wide, 

winding River. The Uppers, those of self-proclaimed 

divine right, once they had arrived, with their chattel

and technologies, quite obviously in charge of

how things would be,  didn't want to be bothered

by Lowers lacking obeisant loyalty.  They decided

to exile those unwanted nuisances to that barren

space emanating from the River's other shore, to

find ways to survive, or die. By long, lazy habit,

that practice has continued, including  a policy

of diverting potential refugees from the greater

world of survivors, trying to find a possible new

home, after the changes that made so much of

our planet less welcoming to humanity. Over

these vast decades, Upper enthusiast improvements

have added their influence to how we have

evolved into today. There are still some few forest

dwellers subsisting, as they have learned to on

what they can forage or kill. Most of us live within

the ubiquitous Garden paths, housed in the

Towers, hi-rise hovels as they are often fondly 

called, erected by Barro labor with materials,

tools, specific blueprints provided by some Upper

project plan. Concomitant, the Clinic was built,

back when the idea of using Barro descendants as

soldiers against possible invasion by violent refugees

instigated a project to advance their health,

strength, stamina, and numbers, thus abortion

methods were  not taught in Med education.

The Clinic was filled with appropriate tools, furnishings, 

for medical necessities, at first staffed with City Meds 

specifically trained to ancient practices to deny us 

access to their advanced technologies.  While there 

was no AI surveillance, as per Upper policy of 

ignorance in regard to Barro doings, City workers 

could not be sure their colleagues would not tell on 

them if they deviated from expectations.  Thus need

for the Compound, to facilitate such communication, 

was perceived and made to be. As it turned out, no

violent invasion occurred.  Exploding drones were

sufficient to repel those with hopes of immigration

to the City. Occasional stragglers simply got diverted

to the Barro. Still the Clinic survived, thrived as Barro

pearls were selected to train as Meds for their own,

still by precedent policy paid in Creds by a City open

grant.  Bit by bit locals were able to serve as Auxiliary,

do the work to support the Meds, also paid through

the Clinic resources. Decades later, the Community

Center, the Com, was conceived. It was the result of

a group of bored Uppers devising an architecture

project to include a School to teach basics, give Barros

the training to do the jobs now needing to be filled,

to discover pearls, people with unusual natural

talents that City mentors could develop to be useful,

for Barro employees for Upper schemes, as well as

those who might migrate based on their special

abilities to become City Lowers instead of remaining

what is considered lesser entities by City understanding

of class. The Com, of course, evolved to fill its many,

varied rooms with studios for all manner of crafts,

the Theater and rehearsal spaces, laboratories for all

kinds of science research education, kept within approved

boundaries, whatever occurred to us to use it for,

including a community Pantry/Kitchen and the 

Recycling (Rec) Center, as well the Tool Shed, a repository 

for community tools to be borrowed as needed.  Between

the Com and Clinic, some Lower entrepreneurs created

the Store, once City paid Barro residents had Credits

to spare, to sell conveniences the Uppers would allow.

Local merchants took to setting up temporary spaces

to display their wares, referred to as the Mart, East of 

the Store and Com. Over time, the Diner and Restaurant 

were established, but not before the Bar,  below the

Mart, a place of camaraderie, social recreation, eased

with intoxication, music and dance. To the much

further South, well East of Barro commerce, community

services, has long stood the Factory. Pretty much,

that's the landscape, buildings, gardens, commerce,

fundamental pieces of my history gathering excursions.

I excavate layers that never seem to end. My 

self-inspiring work, heartfelt friends now family,

each new day a further discovery.

Bonnie

Warm, relaxing water, I pour with cupped

hands over my face, long, luxurious hair.

Peace.  No need to resist drifting away.

Cas has the household sorted, every 

member under the spell of personal 

affairs, soon to meet over our evening 

meal. For now I get to release pent up

feelings, fatigue, from Clinic busyness,

healing or grief, frustration with myriad

details of operation, blood, gore, repair,

medications, all becomes a blur.  As Cas

would advise, I fall into meditation, free

my mind, let built up anxieties melt,

that I become the Bonnie I share with

my family.  This family that feeds,

cossets, unlike the place where I mostly

raised myself after the tragic passing of

my beloved older sister, Tara, though

for her an end to suffering. My fascination

with the biology of health, how our

bodies work, and how they fail, grew 

from my dutiful, loving care for her,

and later Mama, baby Louise, during

those horrid days back in my middle

childhood when illness plagued our

family.  I used what I knew, or thought

I did, but to no avail. In those less painful

times, before my sisters died, Mama 

reduced to a gaping shell, going

through motherly chores as if by rote,

we had been a normal, fairly happy

group.  Of course, Papa too was traumatized.

He grew to want no part of the home that

had once been filled with comforting kin.

He took to working double shifts every

day at the Factory, then to drink and find

commiseration at the Bar. We rarely

saw him awake, unless while in

preparation to forsake us once again

for better company. Barry and Steve,

my younger brothers, too little to

perceive other possibilities, did their

best to not be a bother, played quietly

in their room, took their louder games

outside. All to say, as a teen I spent my

days and evenings studying, puzzling 

over lessons, the ideas they inspired,

delving ever more deeply to discover

what science might reveal. I thus learned

skills, gifts I could give to those I held dear,

as well as professionally.  I provided Cas

and Bobby their vasectomies, after we,

combined, decided to limit our pregnancies,

in consideration of my and Camille's 

demanding careers. Though Sophia, Marta

and I attended Uni for a time simultaneously,

we were in different divisions, not thrown 

together.  I had known Marta to some extent as 

older sister of my good friend, Cas. Yes, he was 

several years younger, but we were somehow 

sympatico. When I returned, replete with all I 

had learned at the City's school, he had moved

next door to the apt where he had grown, to 

care for his invalid grandparents. I took one of 

their two vacant rooms, helped Cas with Dan 

and Liz, while interning at the Clinic.  My days 

were full, learning through intense experience 

in preparation for my future position as head of 

staff, after years of taking care of patients 

presenting with ills and injuries of every 

description. I am no historian, like Sophia with 

her academic background, or Cas, so fascinated

by his family's stories.  Of course I know the

basics we're all taught, how our ancestors were 

exiled across the River when City values clashed 

with their activities or personalities, or they had 

appeared as refugees from worldwide devastation. 

Then, over these close to two centuries, we grew 

into a people of our own devising. Occasionally 

there have been interferences by bored Uppers 

wanting to do something for amusement, by their 

lights philanthropy.  Their longevity without 

physical diminishment results in a desire for 

untried entertainments. We have all been taught 

of these past developments, but rarely think about

that knowledge, caught up in current issues.

Of course, in that sense of less than consciously 

aware attention, I have gleaned much from

proximity to conversations of my more

historically astute family members. Sophia

often visited Alee when she was so ill, to

regale her with historic stories, distract our

invalid from her inabilities, while giving her

imagination more fodder for fabricating

fantasies to amuse herself. Even now that she 

has regained her preferred activities, Alee 

incorporates those histories as greater grist

for theatric plots. We each have our passions,

our emergent dreams, escape mechanisms.

Humans, in all our glory, confusions, reparations,

endlessly amuse me, perhaps especially when

I am knee deep in the mysteries and ministrations

inherent in my profession, their fragilities, those

I can and cannot cure.

Jay

Jacqueline!  Do I look like a Jacqueline, or

Jackie? I could have gone with Jack, but Jay

suits me better, more to the point. Barbara,

my mom, anointed us each with her current

fantasy when we were born. Seven lasses

to bless our less than happy home. The story,

as I've been told by various sources over the

years, but mostly her own version, ranted in

diverse manic moments, that old familiar

tragedy of young infatuation. Sweet, innocent,

16, though she often seemed a bit peculiar

to her social group, clearly a beauty, too

attractive considering her limited experience.

Mal, an older man of twenty, undeniably cute,

a flirt, endearingly intense, broke her defenses.

He promised, sincerely, to take care of her,

no matter what their future might bring. 

Strangely for him, he meant it. He actually was 

smitten, as he relates these days when I visit 

while he's feeling nostalgic. She had broken

his defenses, too. Then came Gwen, first born

of their eventual dynasty of seven daughters,

quickly arriving one by one in a mere nine

years. Barbara, not much past seventeen,

believed back then in the family she was

creating, at least when she was stable, which

slowly became more and more rare. Mal

did his best to keep his promise, held it

together through six subsequent daughters,

a decade of heaven tinged hell. By the time

I was little more than two, he no longer

called our place home, though he would

come by to play with us, commiserate, implore

our patience, from time to time. He still

resides at the bachelor apt with other men

retreating from their bad romances. Once

they were grown enough to strike out on

their own, my two eldest sisters moved

together to the apt next door, at first along

with two others, Camille and Laura, then 

as just them. Mostly I see them around and 

about when our days intersect. Though my 

official residence is still with Nadia and Greta, 

sisters next above my age, who take care of 

mom, all the rest having flown to better homes. 

I do my best to try to forget them, engaged in 

my merry chaotic existence. I spend my nights 

with the friends I end up with when sleep takes 

me. Barbara and her attendants, or more often

just Nadia and Greta, can be easily found

selling mom's knitted wares at the Mart, a

center of activity, so I often encounter them

there or at the Diner. Barbara, through all of 

her self-made tribulations, has found comfort 

in creating knitted garments quite lovely and 

practical. Many are happy to buy from her. 

This activity apparently works well within her 

fantasies. Now freed from the exigencies of endless 

pregnancies, she still must contend with unwanted 

dependencies inherent in her instability, inability 

to discern reality from her suspicions, irrational 

fears. Despite her obvious need of professional 

care, she won't let Meds near. She still resents 

what she believes their cavalier attitudes when 

she endured end of pregnancies' laborious pain.

Early on I learned it best if I refrain from 

interference in her drama. I found friends I

can count on, frivolous fantasies that belong

to me and my coterie, especially my sacred

sister, Alee, who when we were children, 

welcomed me to join her adorable family

who treat me as one of them. Maudlin is

not my style. It's much more rough and wild,

raucous, yet soft and subtle when the suit fits.

Comprised of many bits, pieces, I get to express

as I decide, or if what some say is true, what

fate demands.  Probably a combination.

Look, the Sun is falling through this early

mid-Spring sky. Ready to find out how this

bit turns out tonight.

Act One: Introductions

Act One:  Introductions

Alee

Glorious, brilliant light sweeps through me,

caresses, infused with sweet scented air.

Every part of me feels Awake!  Breathing

fully.  Eyes, skin, bathed in deep, deep warmth,

life bestowing Sunshine!

My mind dances, so free

and

Look!  I find myself dancing, moved onto,

over the floor, sunshine warmth spinning me

round and round, caught up in buoyant sound

emitted from my heart, throat, mouth, emanated

through my rhythmic feet, upward into bliss of

music all I know to feel, wrapped in gaily colored

velvet ribbons of NOW.  I am dance, breath,

omg ecstasy, me, Alee, free

No need or desire to remind this bliss filled

consciousness of all that suffered, unproductive,

unconscionable wasted time -- literal years

bound, unallowed by my own desperate weakness

to be that lively lass we all knew as me, Alee, drowned

under some ill-fated mystery, holding me down,

without even the energy to hope for salvation.

Retreated into dream fantasies, ambient lullabies

my uneasy mind voices inside to keep me company,

a self-protective buffer against unending pain,

the despair of utter dependence on the kindness of

those near who have held me dear.

No, I've better thoughts to expend this surging

energy on, happy songs to carry me into steps,

whirls, untensed muscles that let me express in a

flow of merriment, FUN!

Look at me, awhirl in the thrill of what seems

unceasing energy where so very recently I had

none.  Romping throughout my room and beyond,

smiling into each window as if to renew a beloved

friendship with brilliant Mother Sun, Her Majesty.

Overwhelmed with blessing, feeling ultimately

alive, ready for anything to manifest after this

miracle has been granted.  I am aglow with

happiness, knowing this reprieve is real, not a cruel

joke, some fleeting wish fulfillment dream.  This new

renascence I have woken to is meant to last. I feel

that glorious resurgence urging me to let loose in

enthusiastic dance

Jamee

Alee, Alee, what do I see!  You are dancing,

my old Alee, little sister always in motion,

a vision of grace.  What miracle has brought

you back to me?  Here I am, returned home

from my shift at the factory to tend to my

precious invalid, as every day since your

spirit was compromised by a mysterious disease.

Yet, look!  Amazement!  You seem to no longer

need my ministrations, all alive and a'glee,

ready for any eventuality -- or is this just a

cruel tease?  Will you again be struck down

mostly silently, bereft of the energy to speak,

to sing as our Alee, had for so long lifted us?  

Oh, my so very dear sister, nearly a twin, my 

closest friend, confidante, companion, I now very 

greatly want to believe we have regained your full 

brilliant ebullience to delight our mutual lives as in 

our past, before these years of absence. It does feel 

like at least a lifetime, grieving your ebbing energy, 

light bit by bit fading from your sparkling eyes. This 

wild woman=-child, wise beyond her experience, gentle, 

kind, yet always ready to fight for what you feel needs

fighting for, how I admired your strength and

inspiring elation.  I have done my best to care for

you, the physical chores you could no longer manage.

Yet, I have been so disheartened, seeing you depleted,

devastated, weakness to take the place of your fierce

independence, knowing you must hate to be waited

on at others' convenience rather than doing what,

when, how you please.  But let us not dwell in those

miseries.  Look!  You are dancing, pirouetting over

to hug me, pull me into your dance, as when we were

younger, unaware of trials to come.  We can again,

as of old, prepare our meal, eat together.  Yes, after

you attend to shower and clean clothing, at last on

your own power. Meanwhile, I will gladly inform

the family of this wondrous homecoming.  Are you

recovered enough for a celebration?  Do you have

the information, how this miracle occurred? Please,

tell me now all that you've wanted to say all those

endless days when speech was too much to long

endure.  I am so incredibly happy, happy is not 

nearly a big enough word. I know I need not enclose

my jubilance in verbal expression, when as ever

you can reach in, feel with me. I do exclaim, honor 

such wonderful relief, the difference between our

years of suffering, unrelenting pain of separation

from who we were.  We can push those terrible days

aside, happy to be here and now with effervescent

Alee once more.

Paul

Jamee, Jamee.  I read your group text, and got

myself here as fast as I could run.  Tell me,

what do you mean by "Alee has returned to us"?

Oh, Alee, I see.  Here you are, awake, alive

as ever you were before.  This is, I am,

overwhelmed with joy!  Such a happy surprise,

I don't know what to say.  Let me hug you both

to me, to feel our renewed connection.

Jamee and I have so missed our enchanting Alee.

We were bereaved to see you stay so ill, devoid

of your special elated energy, dancing, singing,

laughing infectious happiness, your

dramatic angers over injustices, sadness of loss

or frustration.  We badly missed all we feared.  

forever gone, wan, near motionless shell, unable

to lift up from your bed, to speak above a

limited whisper, too obviously difficult to

continue beyond simple requests, efforts at

fond blessing.  But why am I dwelling on at last

past miseries, since we are re-united?  We

must celebrate.  I know the rest of the family

will soon show, once they have seen Jamee's

message.  Let's whip up a feast! Gather the

drums and flutes to share around, play, dance,

eat, to honor our awakened sister, the great

good fortune of her recovery.  Jamee, my true

forever love, a kiss to seal this brilliant moment,

we hug together to share, enhance  ascendant

bliss, dispel those wretched years when we hugged

together to share and expel our despair.  But,

yes, let's raid the pantry to get back our

culinary magic, we three so in sync, catalysts

to each of our creative instincts.  I feel alive

in ways I haven't over that agonizing time.

This home of my heart, far different from the

comfortless place where I still stop to care for

my disabled, aging parents; my true family,

these I have loved, depended upon, for most

of my life, despite not being blood related,

finally once more feels complete, as we should

be.  I imagine my sacred duty, portrayed in my

position as Barro Mayor, will benefit from this

easier mind..  A calm, inviting energy, restored,

though I know our uplifted state of grace is not

about me; I am enhanced by my role as witness,

beneficiary.  Still, I want you two, my closest

friends, Jamee my lifelong lover, Alee my

chosen sister, to understand how enormously

I am affected 

 

Sophia

My dear, darling Alegra -- look at you!

Prancing about the room like a conduit of

bubbling grace, just as you had been long

years past -- again.  I know you can see how

happy we are to enjoy your effervescence,

lifting us far from that metaphoric storm

season, buffeted by despair.  I never

anticipated  this particular good fortune

to attend this family struggling against

a detested curse. We who have loved you

through such hapless extremity, with no

reason to believe you could be cured, prepared

for a much more bitter eventuality --

now removed from our imminent fear.  Instead

of tragedy we have been blessed with this

wonderful turn of events. I know, little bird,

we will all, you the most I'm sure, be glad 

to hear you sing aloud, enthrall us with your

evocative stories, soaring lyrics, you and Jay,

our musical playwrights, had before always on

offer.  Again to be regaled by our laughing,

dancing, ever in motion friend who for all

those years before her fall would effortlessly

brighten our lives. Such a joyous homecoming

to this unofficial family of my heart and

long devotion, happily planning their party,

now given occasion requiring celebration.

Gladly done with today's annoying School

meeting, where the faculty pour out their

grievances in the name of programmatic

improvement, as I struggle to appear

professional, I was delighted, intrigued to

see Jamee's text.  Immediately, I rang Marta,

as always ensconced in an experiment not

to be messed with. We agreed to meet here

when she can leave, no reason for me to

wait for her to become acquainted with

the full tale of the occasion. Jamee, Paul,

I know you must be over the Moon, stars

and planets to have this vivacious Alee,

merry, spry, no longer so only in fond

memory.  I see you three are devising

a celebratory feast.  Of course you are!

No doubt Bobby, Cas, and their crew

will join us shortly to share in creating

a happy, exuberant, celebration, we've

found no reason to enjoy for far too many 

less inspired nights. A magical Spring

evening awaits.  I feel peace, within 

anticipatory excitement, a welcome home.

All those long, now event filled, years ago,

I left my City life, the place I was

born and raised, to discover, move alone,

fully convinced of my academic and

teaching abilities, having grown up in an

atmosphere of schooling, among Upper

learned society, daughter of their

children's tutors. I had then no inkling

I would find not only the engaging work

I had hoped for, but better, a welcoming,

loving smart creative family, at least as

engaging.  Meeting Marta as a colleague

at the School, unexpected fast and solid

friends, then committed lovers, a transforming

boon, an unremembered dream come true.

Then, to be introduced, pulled in so easily,

become an integral part of this group through

their eldest sister, another unexpected blessing.

Over time, included in the telling of their

memories, I have learned the siblings' reverence

for their parents, Julia and Eli, for whom

two of their grandchildren were named. I

was privileged in the beginning, for six years,

to be part of their extended family as well,

before the tragedy of their untimely demise.

I too grieved then, and joined the alloyed

celebration when little Eli appeared.

And now, here I am for what I dare to describe

as a sacred re-dedication to our integral

core.  I see Bobby entering, next to the

open door, ready to be hugged in by me

so he can get the music going.  Jamee

has left drums and flutes arrayed on one

of the comfy chairs, to be taken up and

played.  Bobby chooses a drum to thump,

tap, beat upon with his practiced hands.

I choose an old wooden flute, carved an 

age ago by Eli, to expand his musical 

enthusiasm through his kids. We sway to 

the rhythm.  The others dance throughout 

the room, to and from the kitchen, as they 

prepare our future feast.  It is truly wonderful, 

to be among these people, home to share this 

joyful night of resurrection.

Jay

Hey, Alee.  Finally decided to give up on

your marathon of  utter laziness, I see.

Back on your lumbering feet, attempting

to dance? Can't take that performance

to the stage.  You know we've been waiting

for you to wake up, help me create our plays. 

develop our parts, not need to be muddling 

through with the scripts we've got.  

Those old disabled folks you brought meals to 

still remember you, though they haven't been 

neglected. Our flock has you covered, doing 

the work you left that others not suffer from 

your absence, leaving you free to suffer your

illness without guilt.  Gus has added new

cook staff, since you abandoned the

expectations we had of your abilities.

Your places taken by we who had the

training of your example, thus made too busy

to miss you more than occasionally, when

we knew how you would have enhanced

the situation.  Of course you know I never

forget all those crazy scenes, merry pranks,

disasters that kept us laughing when recalled.

We were what, five years old, when we 

decided to become a team, you, me, Paul,

Jamee, nine and six respectively when we

all got together.  Tower neighbors, school

acquaintances, drawn by mutual affection, 

shared passions, appreciation of each other's 

intelligence, basic trust, but especially our 

combination's outrageous fun.  Come, let's 

seal this renascence with a big, reunited kiss,

surreptitious smiles, happy flirtatiousness.

I have so missed all those idyllic whiles,

passion plays, if you will.  Just us two, or

expanded into our flock of intimates.

Let me steal you away from your kitchen

engagement with Paul and Jamee.

Certainly they can enjoy their dinner

preparations a 'deux.  Dance with me to

Bobby's inviting rhythms, Sophia's 

elegant melodies.  We are well acquainted 

with this groove, these feelings that 

reverberate through sensual memory.  

Days, months, years of lonely misery, I 

would move myself to visit you, though 

only briefly, when you had no energy for 

attention.  Let that horrid interval be relegated 

to the realm of experiences too unwanted to

dwell on.  From the corner of my half-closed

eye, I notice Marta has at last arrived,home f

rom her diligent plant studies. She shakes off 

her professional personality, to integrate with 

ongoing family revelry. We pull her into our 

dance, while the boys take a break from their 

kitchen magicianhood for a bit to join in.

Bobby, let me release you, send out the beat 

while you express more fully, stomping feet, 

reaching arms to encircle affectionately the 

dancing present of this family elation.  I 

assume those remaining of your crew 

where you left them, will fill out our 

complement soon. Who needs inebriates 

when real happiness requires only this 

exuberant connection to boost the ambient 

vibe.  That said, I brought wine.  When we 

get to an opportune break, we can pause the 

music, pass around mugs to fill for a formal 

toast, ritual recognition to the gods, invitation 

to party at our side, imbibe their blessing, 

infuse our vibrancy through our shared air, 

our again united home.  Listen to me flow 

effortlessly into delighted poetry, while Alee 

counterpoints, fallen into our old game.  

Alee and Jay together again in full force.  

Watch out world.  Hear us roar.  See us 

tumble into each other, laughing, hugging, 

catching breath, jumping up from the floor, 

aware of sumptuous smells from the kitchen.  

Must soon be time to eat.  And, yes, Bobby has

surreptitiously skipped out, and now returns

with the rest.  Cas and Bonnie, their kids,

Diana and Julia;  Camille, her and Bobby's

little Danny and Eli -- the gang's all here.

Our party has truly started.  Hey, Alee,

see how enormously you are loved.

Marta

My work is important.  Of course I love

my family, reliable support and humanizer.

When we were so much younger, Mom,

Dad, and rambunctious kids, our home felt

bursting with love, tangled up in daily

work, play, serious, silly, we learned to

be independent people, interdependent

for celebration, solace, help as needed,

place to belong.  Mother, Julia, wise,

strong pioneer, eschewed fear or hesitation,

Always sure to exercise intense preparation.

"Pay attention so you don't have to pay with

unnecessary pain," she liked to say, admonish.

Stern words were the only punishment we

expected her to mete, yet certainly enough to

stop us from acting with poor judgement.

Papa Eli, her lifelong partner, foil, the first

word he brings to mind is emotional, over the

top feelings expressed without censor. He

would lovingly carve his wooden flutes,

goatskin covered wooden drums, to distribute

to everyone, sometimes for exchange of value,

usually just to allow for more music to flow.

He liked to orchestrate our repertoire of highs

and lows, to create an engaging atmosphere,

nightly parties for sharing tunes, dance,

exuberance, including whoever would join in,

family and friends. How could we ever forget

his sumptuous meals, his magic with mundane

ingredients, to far greater than sustain us

bodily, rather fill every day with exquisite

flavors to savor, familial memories to honor.

We sisters and brothers, I among us, blessed to

be raised with this legacy of good fun, abiding

love, along with serious endeavors, callings,

responsibilities, always aware that we are cared

for, have people close enough to take in the care

we have to share.  Precious work, dear sustaining

cherishing, what more could I ask to fulfill me?

This special night we are overjoyed to find our

darling little sister returned to us, glorious reprieve

from years of unbearable bereavement. Far from

fading out completely as we had helplessly feared,

somehow, mysterious as her unexpected illness when

it appeared, she has been freed, restored. Surely,

a marvelous surprise to celebrate, an ebullient

awakening to a future in tune with our deepest

desire.  Late as I tend to come to our parties, caught

up in professional chores, still they all understand

that I am very much part of the collective spirit we

call home. My physical presence will always show 

just as soon as I can leave my laboratory without 

jeopardizing meticulous execution, complete attention 

to each next step as my goal, my vision, manifests. 

I know it is overly ambitious, yet I feel compelled 

to ever more efficiently feed, clothe, dispel disease, 

ease maladies for my surrounding community, 

beyond my circle of family, that we may all be well, 

able to default to joy. I know Sophia, my beautiful 

partner and co-conspiratory muse understands 

with full sympathy.  Here she is, grabbing

my hands, swooping in for a lingering kiss.   

 

 

Bobby

Surrounded by bequeathed names, their

associations.  Here, my life, my loved, those

who compose my reflections, my affections,

my greater good to belong among.  Alee,

my little sister (my birth midway between

her, our youngest and our oldest, Marta, with

buffering brothers on either side), named

herself, switched from our parents' decision,

Alegra, to Alee when she figured out how to use

words for communication. This encouraged her 

closest brother and friend, James, to take on Jamee, 

another game within their pair bond. I was named 

for my then recently departed Uncle Bobby, who, 

of course I never knew.  He was Mom's much older

brother who had stayed in this apt, next door to then

young Julia, their parents, and disabled brother, Sam,

to help care for them while keeping a separate space.  

For some years he used the larger bedroom with 

attached bath for fermentation of fruit from his father's

garden to produce wine for sale and parties, and his 

own consumption. When my Mom and Dad got serious, 

they moved into one of his spare rooms, she continuing 

her aid to Dan and Liz, while accepting more 

responsibility for Liz's experiments, to enhance 

the healing possibilities of her family's  Garden's herbs. 

In short time, Julia and Eli decided to settle in, get 

ready to begin their next generation of family within

a kin environment.  I hear that elder Bobby was kind, 

thoughtful, fun, if a bit of an inebriate. Marta, eldest 

of our sibling crew, knew him best, as Cas was still a 

toddler when he passed. She admits vague memories, 

that he was an Uncle she felt safe around when left 

under his supervision, when Mom and Dad were out 

pursuing their endeavors.  I guess Bobby named me, 

but then I named my older sibs, with my baby 

pronunciations. Martina has since been forever Marta, 

Lucas, Cas. On to the next generation, Camille and I 

continued the tradition, giving our sons, each in turn, 

the names of their great-grappa, Dan, when he died 

while his next descendant gestated, and but three 

years later, Eli was named for my father, taken, an 

innocent bystander, in a grievous crime, or accident 

since my parents were not the intended victims. The boys,

named for remembrance after, I guess, strangely getting

born so close to the deaths of their older kin.  Camille

enthusiastically agreed to this, a small gift she could

offer in those months of grief. Then, there's little Julia,

Cas and Bonnie's younger daughter, born over a year

later, named to honor our mother, who was to us beloved,

wise, inspiring, always available as we each required,

despite long hours of dedication to her scientific inquiries.

Thus her family has become no stranger to tragedy. I was

but 21 when that cursed bomb blew up the core security

we thought we had, as we were learning to become the

adult people ready to fulfill our dreams.  Just a bunch of 

stupid teens, lacking obviously needed supervision, who 

figured out how to use the School chem lab equipment 

obliviate their schoolyard enemies. This violently hostile 

youthful rivalry left five innocent bystanders and their 

circles of reverberation destroyed, as well as their own lives, 

relegated to jail for the duration, since none would dare to 

try to get them freed.  Enraged neighbors had clamored to 

tear them apart then and there. Our Mayor at that time, 

trusted friend among the community, instead insisted that 

extension of violence would not promote healing of our

devastation.  We needed, rather, to grieve together, with the 

knowledge that the miscreants who caused this misery would 

never again be free. Incarceration in our underground, 

beneath the Towers, cages, long since built in service to the  

City to keep their most vicious, therefore unwanted cityzens, 

far from their society, soundly punished for their misdeeds

and as warning. Miscreants would suffer brutal loneliness, 

aging in darkness, void of activity or stimulation, most 

certainly a more dire punishment than the peace of death. 

Alee, our youngest, was a mere 16 that year, similar in age 

to the perpetrators.  She must have seen them in School, 

thought of them as fellow students. Mere months since her 

birthday, she had started working part time for Gus at the 

Diner, as one of his short order cooks. She was there at the 

time our world exploded outside.  Later, when life again 

seemed to have become more normalized, she flew into a 

much less home-oriented existence, ever greater community 

engagement.  A dynamo, her days and nights became filled 

with her theater obsessed friends, participating in their whirl

of creative projects to enhance the general ambiance, give

assistance to those they could see were in need, extend their

youthful energies to make their world more easy and fun for

everyone, a lively flock of a feather, together greater, happier, 

than on their own.  We rarely saw her, except of course for 

Jamee,Paul, Jay, her closest confidantes, with whom she played,

made plans, shared explorations every day.  We never thought

we would need to be concerned about her well-being with that

always her reliable support. Cas, Bonnie, Camille, the kids, and I, 

since no longer caring for Dan, and Liz, now gone, have developed 

our own familial crew, sharing chores (though mostly Cas attends 

to our household, meals, cleaning, the children when the rest of us 

have other responsibilities), and support. Camille and I eventually 

moved into the master bedroom to use both for sleep and 

creating art, different from Uncle Bobby's creative pursuits. All of 

us recovered from that infamous day, each finding our ways to 

move forward, to discover who we were, what we could do. And 

then, in an unexpected instant, our Alee was gone from her

previous pursuits.  She was suddenly no longer our dynamic 

whirlwind, showering brilliant grace in dance, spontaneous song, 

spinning glorious fantasies, swirling through daily plans, work, 

companions. Rather, she had become a wan, barely living presence, 

covered in blankets, unable to rise for simple self-care. Yet tonight,

tonight we have her back, fully charged, ready to take on this

new start, relight our hearts with her effortless effulgence, a 

shining future we can feel allowed to hope for, again.  Alee

as we had known her, lifts us all.  I suspect Camille will not miss

her usual early April family birthday celebration, given over to a 

truly worthy cause.

Cas

The serious one, the dutiful son, following, honoring my 

father's legacy, my mom's wise counsel, my elder sister's

sense of responsibility.  Focused, not like Marta with

her scientific endeavors to improve community well-being,

focused on service to family, and by ripple effect, our

greater world.  It truly pleases, fulfills me to take on these

daily ministrations. There is no better life I might aspire to.

All the precedent preparations to enjoy our meals, seeing

that our home is clean, pleasantly appointed, providing

aid in any form, for any issue that presents, giving our

kids the all attention they desire, a source of comfort 

my people can depend upon, no matter why needed, 

these acts of loving grace are me. Back in my later teens, 

while our parents were still there to take care of us, I 

moved next door to more readily help our grandparents 

with chores and health requirements as their aging 

infirmities made them less able to sufficiently do for 

themselves. I began then, as well, to work a shift at the 

Factory, to pay for their comforting treats, and to invest 

in exercise for greater strength as I grew.  My dear friend

for many years, though Marta's age, Bonnie from

upstairs, who I also knew from her volunteering at

Mom's lab for the experience to feed her endearing

curiosity, had earned a place at City's Uni-Med. Thus,

disappeared from my company for those years she 

spent away for schooling across the River.  While 

attending Uni it was forbidden to maintain 

communication with Barro friends or family.  Her 

basic high intelligence, intense focus, grit, and natural 

empathy had impressed the City representatives 

teaching in our School. They knew with appropriate 

training she could be an amazing medical professional 

at the Clinic, City sponsors had long since arranged to

build, way back in Barro history, when they had plans 

to grow soldiers from later generations of those they had 

evicted. I like to put the pieces together like puzzles, 

understand the past, its secrets and ripples, how we 

evolved to now. Those people then, in their struggles 

to continue, shaped us to become as we are today. 

Anyway, Bonnie did eventually return, to serve an 

internship at the Clinic before granted full Med status, 

be given the position she had long worked to attain. 

Meanwhile, once we were reunited, we decided that she 

move in to one of the extra rooms and help with Grappa 

and Gramma's care, here, rather than deal with the pain 

of the home she was raised in, where her younger brothers 

remained. Around that time, Bobby and Camille joined 

our next door extension to this enlarging family, being 

serious enough a couple to want the independence of 

more private space, as Bobby shared the bedroom I

had abandoned with Jamee.  Grappa Dan, ever sicker, 

passed on.  He had already bequeathed his Garden, 

and fermentation operation, to his oldest daughter, 

our Aunt Sylvia, and her family. Then, after mere 

months, Gramma Liz joined her lost partner.  Bobby 

and Camille moved into what had been their larger 

room for both bed and studio. When their first son 

was born not very long after his great-grandparents' 

passing, they named him Dan. Once no longer an 

infant, he was given his parents' former room, 

later to share with his younger brother.  Little Danny, 

Eli, my and Bonnie's Diana and Julia, bit by bit 

increased our crew. Ever abiding, I provide what 

comfort, sustenance, gentle atmosphere of

surrounding care I can.  In fact I am aware that we

all take care of each other in our unique ways.

As a teen I had lopped off my long dark braid

for greater efficiency, inspired by Marta's

practical example. These days I am attired in

the beautiful flowing clothing Camille has

created, decorated to look like a peaceful

starry night, equipped with cinches as required 

for convenience when doing chores. This well 

integrated extended family, my happy place.

Today we have been given an infinite blessing,

our sister Alee's miraculous restoration.  Not an

occasion for solace to sorrow, but for grand

celebration, enjoying the party.

Camille

They say I'm always in motion. So much to do.

I did institute my art program at the School.

Not only classes, shows, all those preparatory

skills, making paints, dyes, quills, building an

artists' community.  Now that the kids are old

enough, I enjoy helping them discover what

engages them creatively, develop their individual

styles. Experiments with their hair, clothing, they 

have seen me devise, inspire their innovations.  

We never differentiate between Cas and Bonnie's, 

mine and Bobby's.  We've become one family, along

with the rest next door.  For all that dismal era,

devastated, missing Alee's uplifting charm, we kept 

each other comforted, wrapped in shared

consolation, and, honestly, over time, it was all

just another part of the norm. Cas led daily

meditations to keep us calm when emotions

overpoured.  Busy people here, it became fairly 

easy to let days, years fall into their component 

moments of activity, entertainment, rest.  Of 

course some occasions break out from routine, 

hold our attention, for good or other emergent 

meaning.  Today's exceptional cause for 

celebration, to see Alee, wonderfully vibrant, 

dance through the room, what could be more 

uplifting?  I see in my mental creative center a 

cloak I want to make, decorate in remembrance 

of this extraordinarily blessed event.

Bonnie

My family balances me, gives safe haven, 

succor, a sacred space where I belong when

not at work.  I have always been diligent.

I was picked for special training across the

River at the City Uni for people they choose

to work in the Barro as medical personnel. My

teachers saw in my qualities, smarts, dedication

to learning the skills of medicine, worthy of 

special consideration, of notice.  The Uppers

call us pearls, Barros who rise above our

general population.  Once they realized they

had no need of us as soldiers, they pivoted to

seek us out as valuable assets to encourage,

useful products to employ for their projects.

They did make certain that I know they expect,

I owe, superb performance of the skills thus

given. As a result of this responsibility, I enjoy

little leisure for domestic chores.  Those are not

what I come home for, nor am I thought shirking

for not contributing more in that regard. Cas acts

as domestic god for our crew. He seems so easily

to keep our domicile all that we each require,

gracefully flowing, showing effortless compassion,

knowing how to quell anxieties with gentle

reminders of how well we are loved.  When we

were first together as a couple, I helped Cas care

for his Grappa Dan and Gramma Liz.  We lived as

this four for a while until Bobby and Camille

joined in. A few months after Grappa passed on, 

their Danny was born. Released from what had 

become chronic sickness, he left Liz still in our care, 

but for not very long.  At least she was gone years 

before Eli and Julia's horrid demise.  She never had 

to suffer that dark passage. Subsequent children 

arrived, grew, asked more of our time, attention, 

emotions. We developed routines around our 

various areas of expertise, never lacking in 

interaction with our siblings and such next door.

When Alee was suddenly disabled, I was called

to cure her. Despite my years of training, experience,

I had no idea how to proceed.  I did as sense suggested,

to no avail.  My desperate ministrations always failed

to provide relief.  I begin to see this was no mere bodily

malady.  This illness may have arisen for a purpose

beyond our common ability to foretell. As suddenly,

without discernable source, as she had been stricken,

she has regained her vital energy, full force.  I don't

know what any of this means, but sincerely hope we

are freed from continuing grave misfortune, that any 

future revelation be to our good.

the bad effects of human suckage

A vital part of being an artist --
the discoveries I make along the way
that I refuse to allow AI to take from me


Part of the insane situation we are
dealing with now is the result of
stupid divisiveness, bashing
Democrats as if a monolith of
cowardice or even corruption.
Yes, there are elected members of
government that exhibit those faults,
not because they are Dems, but flawed
humans.  Rather than vent wrath like
a prejudiced fool, suggest alternatives;
discover who is out there doing clearly
what you believe they should, and
promote them, or run for something
yourself.


When a failed state falls into anarchy,
the liberated people are free to follow
whatever source of power they believe
is the strongest.  Violent might thus
becomes all of the law.


Structures can be put in place to overcome
the bad effects of human suckage.


I am not ashamed to admit that if I were
to learn that Donald Trump was suffering
a disabling or even potentially fatal
illness, I would hope for him to become
disabled enough to end his project of
making America fail.  Looking into my
heart, I am surprised to find I do not
actually wish him personally ill.  If
he were no longer acting against our
best interests, I feel no need to see him
suffer.
In regard to Joe Biden's cancer diagnosis,
I feel sad.  He generally seems a good man,
despite mistakes, flaws, cases where we 
have different values.  I don't blame Biden
for the Gaza atrocities, their own Netanyahu.
As POTUS for the whole nation, Biden was
in a quite difficult position.  Not believing,
as Trump clearly does, in unilateral POTUS
power, respectful of checks and balances,
understanding the terrible divisiveness he
is required to contend with does not lessen
his responsibility to defend all of his
constituents.  He was raised, as many others
in government positions, in a time and place
in which Israel was considered our great Middle
East Democracy ally, and historic responsibility.
The myth portrayed in the movie Exodus, of Israel 
as courageously striving to survive onslaughts
of evil autocratic Moslem zealots, preserving
the hope of democratic turning of the region if
they prevail, had and has widespread advocates.
Today's project of Gaza destruction in retaliation
for the October 7 attacks, is not Biden's, nor
instigated by Biden's America.  Netanyahu,
the would be autocratic leader of Israel, has
clearly repeated that no one in the world has
the power to change his mind.
Condemnation by ever more, no matter how
loudly expressed, seems to make him laugh
imperiously, not show shame or fear.
These autocrats today, bullies embracing
cruelty in every imaginable situation, 
eschewing empathy as weakness, never
giving an inch lest they be misperceived as
reasonable men.
Biden was besieged from so many directions,
often paid for and propagated by Musk and
his tech buddies.  AI fortified disinformation,
social and other media tricks that make it
so onerous to sort out complex realities from
the easier to shovel shit.
We never even gave Harris a chance, despite
it being so horribly obvious that no matter her
faults, real or assumed, her Presidency would
be so much more beneficial to us, and the world
in general, than even the lesser criminality
and destruction most expected from Trump
and associates, based on previous experience.
Maybe this is all some Biblical End of Days
scenario we are caught up in.

5/13-19/25

Out in the post-Real world

 
See how deeply this Israel as innocent 
victim story resonates, especially within 
people who lived through WWII's aftermath 
of guilt over all those slaughtered Jews, 
actual innocent victims.  
Yes, it would be better if they would realize 
Israel is paying forward genocide, destroying 
innocent lives for being unwanted neighbors, 
though only very few instigated these hostilities 
(and is it instigation if in retaliation for brutal 
conditions and violent actions in pursuit of 
control?)  However, really this is Bibi's war, 
not ours, for he completely refuses to back down 
or admit to evil.  Railing against foreign 
noncombatants for their dated beliefs is not a 
useful answer.  Rail against the arrogant devil, 
not those perceived to be his demons who are 
merely severely disinformed




it's always about that place holder IOU we created 
to aid trade, that has become some kind of unfeeling 
deity.  Forget the cost in currency -- remember the 
price for not fully funding essential services




the "not all" meme is important to keep in mind, 
unless you are not evoking prejudice by painting 
any group to conform to your extremist rage


it is vital for our continued abilities to live as 
free beings that we engage with any and all 
who are willing to engage with us, with 
open-minded respect


Democrats take in quite a variety of people.  
There are Democrats in government who are doing 
what they perceive they can, trying for more, and 
can use constituent support.  There are Dems in gov't 
who have issues of their own, maybe about personal 
safety or political security, or, do you know because 
they haven't told me.
Exactly (I mean exactly) what do you want Democrats 
to do:  Who, What, How?


To Grumpy POTUS nothing matters but his
self-aggrandizing fantasies.  There's no
reaching a conscience that doesn't exist.


Don't up the amperage
Communicate with respect





So enraged with the "Democrats" for the
Gaza slaughter?  Tell me, what Republicans
did their best to end it, voted against US
weapons for Israel, protested or at least
showed up with respect for those who did,
instead of demanding their incarceration
for expressing outrage against genocide
carried out not to eliminate Jews, but
by Israel, or are they the Party
applauding Netanyahu's brutality?
 Of course, this is Netanyahu's
mission, which he has again and again
made clear no world organizations nor
moral protestation has the power to alter.


If we want an effective strategy to end
the Gaza terrorism, even genocide, the
people we need to convince are the
Israelis.  Netanyahu will not be dissuaded
by worldwide disgust and protestation.
If enough IDF refused to be pariahs, brutal
murderers of helpless children, such
militant destruction would be done.


We need to treat police who kill as
murderers.  We need to treat agents who
kidnap as kidnappers.  Government
employment does not place one above
the law.


Applying ever greater pressure to your
Republican (majority) Congress elected
to feel unbearable shame over avoiding
their duty to protect and defend our
US Constitution, is apparently necessary.


5/4-10/25